


What a heart requires

by AnnaBolena



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: AU: Canon divergence, Canon-Era, Eliza-Centric, Multi, Polyamory, love me some bi folks, pls humor me, sad attempts at ye olde english, who lives who dies who fathers the kids, ye olde Maury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-16 16:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14815229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaBolena/pseuds/AnnaBolena
Summary: "You are too kind a woman to trifle with me." Hesitantly, his hands reach out to steady her hips, holding her in place. Eliza looks up at him and feels her heart beating out of her chest, wildly. "If your words were not meant to convey that you hold a smidge of desire, nay, perhaps even affection, for my person, then I must urge you to tell me so now before I fall even deeper beneath your spell."a.k.a. Alex and John fall in love first, but everyone falls in love and life is good ok?





	What a heart requires

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea hit me out of nowhere and thus, here you are.  
> Since this is canon-era they look more like their historical counterparts than the musical versions, but it's kind of hard to imagine them that way when you're so deep in the broadway-cast-inspired-deep-dive, so one tries to keep it vague and not go all-out in their descriptions. 
> 
> listen, folks, we all agree that the historical John Laurens was one hella gay boi. Don't h8 that I made him bi in this.

 

John Laurens met Alexander Hamilton in 1777 and fell for him the second their hands touched. Not because Alexander Hamilton's hands were particularly soft, for they were not, nor because John felt a powerful jolt throughout his body as they felt each other skin-to-skin, but because Alexander smiled at him as their bare skin connected. A redhead, from the looks of it younger than even John, with bright blue eyes and freckles splattered haphazardly across his face, Alexander had intrigued John from the very start. 

"Our new aide-de-camp, I presume," Alexander Hamilton inquired, charmingly, when General Washington made the introduction.

"Quite so, it is good to finally join the fight."

Once the general elected to leave them in each other’s company, Hamilton’s demeanor had changed just slightly. A little less stiff in posture, a touch more open. "Not a lot of fighting to be had for us, my good sir."

"I dare say there will be plenty, though I agree the pen and written word appear to be unusual weapons at first," John had joked. Hamilton had raised an eyebrow and allowed for a small smile to play around his lips. "Are you of the sort that prefers desk duty, perhaps?"

"The opposite is true, Hamilton, but even the most vainglorious man must concede that aides such as we are essential to the cause," Laurens insisted, testing the character of the man that had enchanted him so quickly.

"There is truth in that, Laurens, you are right. And yet I find myself wishing you were not, and that we were free to pursue a command at our leisure."

Theirs was an easy friendship, solidifying into something nigh unbreakable within months of John’s arrival in camp. Winter took the land hostage, forcing men close together in the dead of the night to tap into yet unused reserves of warmth, and so the two young men found their place next to each other in bed, clutching tightly and fighting exhaustion. Some four months after John had first laid eyes on him, Hamilton startled awake in his arms when thunder boomed and frozen rain punished their camp mercilessly.

"Have I disturbed your sleep, Laurens?" Hamilton whispered into the darkness when John made vague sounds protesting the sudden interruption of his dreams.

"I don’t see how anyone can manage fulfilling respite in this weather, so be assured that you have done no such thing," John’s speech was undercut by a long yawn, even if he had been himself lulled in dreams just moments before.

"Tilghman and Harrison seem to be an exception," Hamilton mused as he nodded his head in the general direction of the other bed in the room, from which two soft snores could be heard, contrasting the whipping sounds of the storm outside. "How must the poor soldiers in their tents feel, this night," Laurens bristled.

"I do not envy them," Hamilton agreed, shifting closer to John in the dark. A second passed, and then John felt Hamilton’s hand on his chest. A careful touch, nothing meant to seduce, surely. And yet, John thought, he would not push Alexander away, were his intentions thus. 

Was it intentional, he wondered? Did Hamilton aim to touch him thus or had he placed his hand there carelessly? "For not only are they more exposed to the elements, they also lack a bedmate to weather the cold."

Laurens laughed, softly. "Oh, Hamilton, I imagine most men have paired up under such dire circumstances, propriety be damned."

"Why, Laurens," Hamilton whispered, amused, "What about this arrangement do you deem improper?" Hamilton’s voice was closer now, and John imagined that there remained very little space between them, though he could not see and make sure. "Thus far you have proven yourself to be the very picture of virtue, my dear Hamilton," John pitched his voice low, hand reaching out to search for the contours of Hamilton’s face in the dark. His thumb swiped across Hamilton’s lower lip, and he heard the younger man’s breath catch in his throat. "And there is something to be said for virtue, undoubtedly. Only, I think your virtue is situational and not voluntary. Would you soil yourself, if afforded the opportunity?"

"I should not consider something my heart longs for so ardently to be capable of soiling anything, much less whatever virtues I might yet possess." Alexander's voice had been soft but determined. 

It remained a risk, to close the minute distance and to softly press a kiss against Hamilton’s lips, split from maltreatment by his teeth throughout the day, a common occurrence whilst translating for the general. But the risk proved worth it when the hand on his chest curled into his shirt, deliciously tight, and Hamilton exhaled against him loudly upon his retreat. 

They traded silent kisses in the dark for the rest of the night as they waited for the storm to pass.

+

John had never before considered how difficult it was to truly find a moment of privacy while at war, and so he predominantly resigned himself to innocent touches. A brush of fingers while exchanging documents that lasted perhaps a second too long, a leg pressed tightly to Alexander’s while they sat together, that was all they had for most of the war. John cherished the stolen moments, however sparse they may have been.

Alexander, surprisingly, had been much better at John than adapting to a life of discretion and secrecy. Though no man in camp could rightfully claim the two men did not share a deeper bond than most, no one could accuse them of untoward desires if they tried. Hamilton was methodical in assuring any gesture of affection he might make would be made with no one close enough to witness. Memorably, this once included urging John to bite down on Alexander's shoulder to avoid crying out loudly as they rutted against one another in the dark of the night. The noise John's teeth had drawn out of Alexander was strangled with great effort. Years later John would still tease him about it, comparing it to a man dying in agony. "Your touches, my Laurens, are the sweetest agony," Hamilton would tell him off-handedly, his words betraying the nonchalance he intended to convey, "For if I could I should indulge them without cease, and to know I cannot tortures me more with each passing day."

Every kiss from Alexander filled him with life, and John could not imagine he should ever find someone else to take his heart so ardently by storm, even as he remembered many similarly clandestine rendezvous in Europe.

Alexander Hamilton was an extension of his soul, and John wished routinely that he could openly treat him as such.

The first time Alexander put his mouth on him John reconsidered that there may be a god after all, and that at last he smiled upon him. The first time that he fully lay with Alexander happened in a creaky cot in a small room in an overcrowded inn, and they stifled the sounds of their coupling by biting down on any bit of skin they could find. John watched fondly as Alexander winced when he moved too quickly the day after.

When John was afforded the opportunity to bring his plan of a black battalion to fruition, he tore himself from Alexander’s side. There was now a chance they might win the war, after a treaty was signed with the French, and John resigned himself to the fact that his time with Alexander Hamilton had always been limited, despite his lover's words insisting it would not be so. Better to distance himself slowly now, he thought, than suffer the full extent of a shattered heart all at once.

"This is all I want," Alexander had panted into his shoulder as John slid into his warm and willing body, "You're all I will ever want." Even then John had already known Alexander was spouting nonsense. He had watched his Alexander stumble from one eager socialite to the next, watched Alexander praise the virtues of women to taunt him as John worked his fingers into him mercilessly, heard him distantly say 'Oh, but John, Kitty's body is a treat, I think I could most happily marry her', and ignored it, for in the aftermath of their passions his Alexander would hold him tightly and whisper into his ear that no one had ever stolen their way into his heart the way John had. No one would ever make him feel as John did. And John wasn't sure he should believe him, but he did. And it was enough. 

Alexander wrote him letter after letter, filled to the brim with adoringly subtle intimations that John treasured more than anything else in his possession. Perhaps the only thing that should have made him happier would have been a night spent with Alexander where they needed not worry about being caught, where the volume of their declarations did not matter. Alas, though it was quite unlikely, John allowed reluctantly that one must be afforded the liberty to dream.

 And then Alexander wrote to him, extrapolating the benefits of taking a wife, and John had known that his anger could not be justified. He had a wife of his own, after all, had a daughter, even, if the letters spoke truth. _He shall still love me. He shall not quit me over a woman. He promised._ But it was little use, and therefore John Laurens decided instead to pray that Alexander would find someone worthy of him, a woman that could keep up with him and give him what John could no longer.

+

The first time Elizabeth Schuyler met Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens was when she stepped off the carriage that brought her to Morristown to reside with her aunt Gertrude for a time and promptly tripped over a stray chicken darting across her path. The long folds of her skirts tangled and Eliza envisioned a future in which she would have to hide in shame, ostracized forever as the woman who fell headfirst into the camp mire.

By sheer luck, Eliza was saved from having to live out this horrible future as strong arms caught her in a tight embrace. Her eyes blinked open rapidly as she found herself suspended almost horizontally, hands clutching desperately at the lapels of an officer’s uniform - a lieutenant colonel’s, from the looks of it. A soft gasp left her unable to speak, heart beating uncontrollably out of her chest. Eliza’s dark eyes fell upon bright blue ones, vivacious and streaked with mischief. Softly, she was put onto her own feet again. The return of steadiness left her able to observe her savior more closely - a handsome young man, tall and with blonde curls swept back in a neat queue. "I must offer my sincerest apologies, my lady." His voice was sweet, dripping with honey, not so different to his hair. Before Eliza had a chance to regret the loss of contact he spoke again. "I can assure you I dare not usually hold a lady so close before asking for express permission."

"As you have saved me from embarrassment I feel I should forgive you, good sir." Eliza somehow found it within herself to respond, as charmingly as she dared. She was rewarded, in turn, with a breathtaking smile.

"Then I am indeed pleased, my lady," the officer inclined his head. Eliza blushed, hesitantly asking, "Might I inquire the name of my savior, so that I may recommend his virtues to my aunt and thus allow her to extend her gratitude for ensuring the safety of her niece, as it is surely owed?"

Clearly, this officer came from an affluent background, Eliza noted to her great satisfaction. There was grace written into his every movement. His conduct alone spoke of propriety. Here is a man, she thought, a little bitterly, that would surely pay her no mind had Angelica been by her side.

"Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens at your service," he bowed, quite pleasantly. "And whom might I have saved this morning?"

"Elizabeth Schuyler," she curtseyed a little, lifting her skirts just slightly as she did so to avoid further damaging the hems, already about two inches covered in mud.

"Of the Albany Schuylers, I imagine?" John Laurens guessed.

"Yes, indeed. General Schuyler is my father." Eliza had responded, with a warm smile. John Laurens had looked thoughtful for a moment, before he spoke again. "While I believe that everyone is by now aware of the virtues and beauty of all the Schuyler sisters, I do truly find myself ill-prepared to face the whole extent of it, my lady."

They had been bold words, indeed, and Eliza had been unable to hide the blush on her face entirely. To have a man so handsome and well-mannered pay her such a compliment was, to put it plainly, overwhelming.

"Then pray you never lay eyes upon my older sister Angelica, Lieutenant Colonel, for she far exceeds me in both beauty and grace."

"I shall give no heed to your argument, my lady, for I cannot imagine it to be true." His smile was a wonderful thing, Eliza thought. Dearly, most dearly, she would have liked to get to know him better.

"More the fool are you," she had responded, coyly.

"I do believe you shall produce no argument of note to convince me otherwise. My friends do tell me repeatedly how stubborn a man I am. And now, Miss Schuyler, I must, to my tremendous regret, bid you adieu, for the General requires me to ride for Charleston posthaste."

"I shall not keep you, Sir, in fact I believe I have taken up too much of your time already that should have better been applied to the effort for our country."

"Ah," John Laurens had laughed, a delightful sound, "But I would happily devote most of my time to you, Miss Schuyler, were I free to do so."

He had bowed, and then disappeared from Elizabeth Schuyler’s vision quickly. That night she dreamt of a blond hero sweeping her into his arms and keeping her there.

+

When Elizabeth Schuyler met Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton for the first time she quickly found out it was not the first time they had met, after all. 

"Some two years ago, I believe I dined with your brother," Hamilton had told Eliza’s aunt, engaging her in conversation whilst simultaneously capturing her niece’s attention. Here was a man, so different from the young Colonel she had been dreaming about, but no less wonderful.

An excellent dancer, a better conversationalist still, and one who eagerly paid her much attention, Eliza found herself dividing dreams equally among the two men that had left an impression on her during her stay. Alexander, as he had suggested she call him after their second conversation, took a vested interest in her opinions and conversed with her at length on any given topic, willing to explain whatever she did not understand and, sometimes, willing to recognize she held a different, but equally valid, opinion. It was an odd feeling indeed, to be treated so by a man when she had previously only found her sister Angelica to be so interested in her mind, but it made Eliza tremendously happy.

Angelica's tone was encouraging in the letters they shared, and if Eliza neglected to mention that she still sometimes thought about the handsome Lieutenant Colonel Laurens, her sister was quite satisfied to hear everything she could offer about a man she was quickly becoming madly enamored with. 

Indeed, though Alexander was courting her, Eliza was certain they were developing a close friendship too, something she had always aspired to have with her future husband. A relationship of trust, one of equals. He was never cross with her, always patient, he always explained gently when she did not understand while at the same time encouraging her to educate herself further. In short, Eliza could not have been happier. 

Then one fateful night, Alexander Hamilton talked to Eliza about his friends, as they took a turn about the Morristown encampment together. Both took a deep, clandestine pleasure in their intertwined hands. "And my dear Laurens, it seems, has undertaken to pain me further indeed by getting himself captured by the British." It was said so off-handedly that Eliza nearly missed the name.

"Laurens?" Eliza had perked up, felt her heartrate speed up.

"Yes, indeed," Hamilton had nodded, "Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens, I am very fond of the man. Are the two of you acquainted?"

"If we speak of the same John Laurens, then I regret to inform you that we have only met briefly, in passing."

Hamilton gave a brief description of his closest friend, and Eliza confirmed that this was the man she had spoken to. Hamilton had continued his recounting.

"Imagine my surprise, dear Betsey, when I found out by way of errant letters that he has long been married, and neglected to tell me."

Married, Eliza had gotten hung up on that word. She had beaten down her disappointment violently, constrained herself masterfully, and driven Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens out of her mind determinedly. It was a foolish thought to entertain in the first place, and regardless, in Alexander’s presence she felt so safe, so loved, so valued, that she soon entirely forgot to recall John Laurens’ face in her dreams.

Instead she found herself developing an unshakeable attachment to Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton, a man of overwhelming knowledge and passions. A man covered in freckles, wrapped in mystery and starving for opportunity, a man who confided in her so readily, a man who gave her his heart freely and happily.

Alexander Hamilton stole her first kiss from her, sweetly but with barely contained passion, as he said good night to her after talking to her father and asking for her hand in marriage. It was one of the happiest memories of her youth, one she would recall often in the years to come. Alexander had looked almost shy, a little bashful, when he had stopped her languid but giddy stride with a gentle hand on her waist. Eliza had drawn in a startled breath, looked into sparkling blue eyes and been made helpless when her fiancé had kissed her. From the very first time their lips touched she had known Alexander Hamilton's passion could never be restrained, but in truth she would not have wanted him to even attempt it. Her knees buckled and she clung to him, and after he drew away he pressed kiss after kiss to her hair and assured her that she was lovely. 

Eliza married him quite happily, and quite happily let him be the first man to have her. He was sweet, taking her heart by storm and without looking back. When he pushed inside of her that first time they both cried out, and then Alexander spent considerable time gently wiping her tears away with a soft thumb, before fully devoting his labors to her pleasure, another thing he excelled at.

Eliza fell pregnant within the first year of marriage.

Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton went off to rejoin the war effort. Her Alexander was swept up in the tides of war yet again, risking his life for his adopted country. Eliza spent many nights anxiously praying for his safe deliverance, as a new life grew inside of her as a new country grew outside of her.

+

"You are married." At first John had protested when Alexander had sought him out in the aftermath of Yorktown, in an abandoned house the army would be requisitioning shortly. Alexander had pressed him up against the wall, blood still staining both their uniforms, and kissed him until he was sure every star had fallen onto earth to scorch him alive. 

"As are you, John," Alexander shrugged, one hand tender against his heart, "Does that change what you feel for me?"

"You know it does not." John growled and tugged Alexander close. Alexander had been cross with him, he had been hurt, when he found out about Miss Manning, and John could not quite shake the feeling that he had married the lovely Miss Schuyler to hurt John in turn. 

"Why then should a wife of my own encroach on what I feel for you? Do you doubt my heart, when it has belonged to no one but you for years?"

"You have spared no labors to praise Mrs. Hamilton to me," John had argued, "And I myself have met your wife and must concede that I understand your choice. So tell me, Alexander, do you truly not love her? Does she deserve that? Does she know? Or does she mistakenly fancy herself the luckiest woman in the country to have captured your heart?"

"It is not as simple as you make it to be, John," Alexander had sighed and John had wanted to ask for clarification. He did not. Instead he had accepted that the time for their liaison to end had arrived, and pretended it would not be the end of him if he indulged Hamilton one last time. 

+

Eliza had consoled her dearest Alexander when he received word that Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens had gone missing in action while at the Combahee River. A week later, reports of presumed death followed. Alexander had broken down, had sobbed into Eliza’s lap for days. He had been unable to leave the house, and it tore at Eliza to see her beloved husband so distraught. She poured all the love she could give into him, and when she saw him smile again for the first time, two months after they received the tragic news, it felt like her efforts had paid off. John Laurens might have meant more to Alexander than she had realized, Eliza acknowledged when he showed her the correspondence they shared in an attempt to make Eliza understand the dear friend she had met but once, for no longer than a few minutes.

The war had come to an end, and Eliza tried to ease the transition from soldier to citizen for him. But something seemed missing from her husband.

"Darling," she had whispered as she kissed his fingertips one by one upon finding him at his writing desk shortly before dawn. "You ought to get some rest."

"I cannot, my Betsey," Alexander had spoken on a choked sob, "For when I close my eyes I imagine how my Laurens must have suffered in his final moments, all alone."

Eliza had allowed him to pull her onto his lap, had soothed his tears away with gentle coaxing, and had tried to be what he needed. And yet, something that had been there before was now missing from her husband and she could not say what exactly. 

 

+

Many more months after her husband’s first smile in the aftermath of paying too high a cost for the war, there came a knock on the door as Eliza was preparing dinner. She removed her apron, wiped her hands on it, and made haste to the door. Alexander would not have knocked, and she had not been expecting someone to make a call. 

It swung open to reveal Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens, in elegant plainclothes, taking off his hat and bowing to her. Alive and well, if looking more worn than she remembered. "Mrs. Hamilton," he had smiled as he kissed her hand, "How lovely it is to see you again, though I must say that I did not expect to be looked upon as a ghost."

"News of your presumed death has troubled our family for the last months, and I can only assume you are here to make amends to my husband and offer explanations for your continued absence."

John had looked horrified, had staggered on unsteady feet until Eliza had offered him her hand. "Alexander has- he has thought me perished?"

"These months have been harder for Mr. Hamilton than you can imagine, Mr. Laurens," Eliza had confessed, tears brimming at her own eyes. "I can imagine quite well the agony he felt, Mrs. Hamilton, for I once believed him dead as well, small mercy that I needed only linger in that state of dreadful bereavement for a few days. But to imagine- months, you say?"

John Laurens had made an anguished sound in the back of his throat. "I sent word of my capture," John had managed to explain, "It must have been miscarried. I need to speak to him, please, I need to see him."

"Then I suppose you had best come inside," Eliza had stepped to the side, keenly aware of the blue eyes that followed her movements with interest. "I expect my husband shall announce his presence soon, he is usually on his way home from work at this hour, though there is no accounting for a delay that might occur."

"I do not mean to encroach on you, Mrs. Hamilton. Please believe me when I say that, had I known your husband was not to be found here, I would not have called upon you so discourteously."

He had taken a seat, adjusting his position constantly, obviously uncomfortable to be such an intrusion.

"How fares your wife, Mr. Laurens?" Eliza had been unable to resist asking. John Laurens had frowned, and Eliza had longed to smooth out the wrinkles such an expression produced on his handsome face.

"She died, late last year I believe. My father has written to tell me he is in custody of our daughter, and intends to raise her in my stead as he has thus far declared me an unfit father."

"I am so terribly sorry," Eliza had been mortified by his response, hastily getting up and fetching him a drink that he accepted with a charming smile.

"Do not fret, Mrs. Hamilton, for mine was never a marriage of love nor affection."

"Indeed?" Eliza had been surprised. John Laurens had smiled again, shaken his head as if lingering in fond recollection, and taken a sip of his drink after which he made an appreciative noise. It was a good wine, Eliza recalled, one that General Washington had sent months ago to send his compliments for the birth of their son.

"Indeed," he had agreed, before elaborating, "Miss Martha Manning was a foolish mistake into whose bed I fell whilst drunk and upset."

For a while, Eliza had been shocked by John Laurens’ candor, before she recalled the letters he had written to her husband, and accepted that most likely he saw Eliza as an extension of Alexander, to be trusted implicitly. Alexander had assured Eliza that he had extolled her virtues with great industry in his letters to John. Perhaps this man felt he already knew her to some extent.

"If you’ll permit me to be candid, Mr. Laurens, I am not quite sure whether it is a stain on your character that you seduced that poor woman or a testament to it that you married her regardless of your affections when you found out she had fallen pregnant."

"It appears to me, Mrs. Hamilton, that a conundrum as vexing as my character should not occupy your mind so thoroughly. Will you sit with me?"

Eliza had hesitated, for a second, before taking a seat across from Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens. "In truth," he began anew, "The whole matter was my fault, because while I certainly liked her well enough when I met her, it has become glaringly obvious to me that no woman could hold my interest for longer than I see her and she, like all of them flee my thoughts as soon as they flee my gaze. It seems your husband does not share my vice."

Eliza had felt a sharp stab of hurt in her chest at his words, had tried quite hard not to frown under his watchful eyes. Weeks, Eliza had spent, dreaming of Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens after their incidental encounter at Morristown. "I fear you must excuse me, Mr. Laurens. Dinner still requires my efforts to prepare. Will you stay on for it?"

"I believe I shall, should your husband permit it."

"I doubt Mr. Hamilton would refuse you anything, so please," Eliza had told him, tight-lipped, "Rest as you wait for him."

Her husband had arrived not long after, mouth running a mile a minute as he embraced Eliza in the kitchen. His arms wrapped around her midriff and he hummed against her pleasantly as his hands set about undoing her apron. Eliza had always been vulnerable to sudden attacks of his passion, melting in his arms, unable and unwilling to resist him. But she caught sight of Mr. Laurens, getting up hesitantly, looking pained and terribly anguished, so she gently arrested her husband’s attentions with a hand to the chest. "Dearest," she had announced softly, "We have company."

"Alexander," John Laurens had said, voice unsteady and eyes brimming with tears as her Alexander had let go of Eliza and turned to face the source of the interruption.  Upon seeing John Laurens he had drawn him into quite the intimate embrace, sobbing into the taller man’s shoulder, and suddenly, Eliza understood with perfect clarity. So glaringly obvious was the evidence before her that Eliza felt foolish for having been ignorant of it before.

There was love in their eyes. There had always been love in Alexander’s eyes when he spoke of John Laurens, but she had never seen the two men interact until now. It was as if scales fell from her eyes, and left her both with clear vision but also vulnerable. Eliza remained quiet throughout dinner.

"I believe I shall retire now, Philip needs looking after. Alexander, dearest, I don’t believe I shall be expected to wait up for you tonight?"

Alexander had caught her meaning, plainly, for he did not join her marriage bed that night. Instead, she found him and John Laurens, naked, in bed together, peacefully wrapped around one another. Eliza pretended she had not witnessed it. Had Alexander ever felt so strongly about her as he did this man? How could she deny her husband the pleasure of lying with John Laurens, when she herself had found him quite present in her mind after she had first met him? When her dearest Alexander had been quite inconsolable and had thought him dead for so long?

And if what she suspected was true, then indeed she might have stolen Alexander from John Laurens, not the other way around. Surely, they had first fallen for one another while in the army?

What might have prompted Alexander to take her for his wife, when his heart belonged to another?

+

"I cannot believe you are alive," Alexander had whispered in awe, tears rolling out of his eyes liberally, when he took in John, privately, for the first time after the war. He had grown slightly gaunt in recent months, the result of British capture. But he was still beautiful, was still his John, his dearest heart. There were a million things he wished to tell him. He had written many letters to John that he never thought the man would ever get the opportunity to read, and now here he was and Alexander longed to recite all of them from memory, but his throat felt bizarrely tight, obstructed by the sheer force of his emotions.

John had not hesitated to kiss him, lovingly and deeply, every ounce of longing accumulated over their separation pouring into their movements. Both men had touched one another with shaking fingers, had reacquainted themselves with the faces that had become as familiar as their own during their tenure as aides-de-camp.

"And you’re married, Alexander," John sighed, connecting their foreheads, "To a woman undeserving of an adulterous husband."

"I love my Betsey, as I have written you extensively. Yet if I could have, I would have taken you for a husband instead, John, as you should well know that no one holds my heart the way that you do."

"Alexander, please," John had urged softly as his hands wrapped around Alexander. "It is plain as day to me that you gaze upon her with unbridled adoration. Do not lie to me, for I have seen you embrace her. I have always known that what we shared could be nothing but temporary, and though it pains me I believe that if you asked it of me I could quite happily live this life by your side as your closest friend and nothing more."

"No," Alexander had protested, had flung himself into John’s arms and claimed ownership over his body, thoroughly and incessantly. John had been equally helpless as Eliza, relenting and entering the depths of the hurricane that was Alexander Hamilton’s passion. "I love you, John. I love you so much I can scarcely breathe when I think of your touch and how long it has been since I felt it last. When I thought you had passed and left me on this earth alone I considered hastening my own end if only it would have meant we could have been reunited."

"And why did you not?" John asked even as he knew the answer lay in bed upstairs.

"I do love her, John, it is true. But it is different, perhaps, and I believe I require both of you in my life."

"When have you known me to deny you anything?" John had kissed Alexander again, and taken him to bed that night. When Alexander fell asleep on his chest, as he had hundreds of nights before this, John could not help but feel guilty for taking the man from his wife.

+

John Laurens returned to South Carolina for a while after the war for business he would not specify, and Eliza fell pregnant again.

It was while she was pregnant that a feverish, injured John Laurens fell in front of her feet at her doorstep one day, begging for mercy. Attacked by bandits on the road to New York, he had managed to speak a few words through a mouthful of blood. Eliza had helped him onto the nearest bed, had sent her servant for a doctor, and had promptly stripped John Laurens of his clothes to reveal a gaping bullet wound in his side.

In his feverish haze, he had gripped her hand tightly and refused to let go until the doctor had sewn him up. Alexander arrived late that night, to a John Laurens fast asleep, nursing his wounds.

Eliza had tried to keep her heart intact but had it shattered when she watched how tenderly Alexander worried for the survival of John Laurens. He had thought him lost before, Eliza recalled with a frown, and she did not think he could recover once more. She decided, though it pained her to do so, that she would not stand in their way.

John Laurens’ fever broke a week after arriving at her doorstep, and he awoke from his haze to Eliza sitting in his room, stitching. "Eliza-" He had croaked out, and earned himself a stern look. "I don’t believe you’ve earned the right to call me that, Mr. Laurens," Eliza had frowned. She had no wish to be so intimately acquainted with a man that had played her a fool, occupying her husband’s heart and leaving no room for her.

John had apologized immediately, and Eliza had given him food and drink.

"I suppose my husband shall be glad to know you are on your way to recovery. Perhaps I shall visit a friend this evening and give the two of you some much needed privacy." Eliza had announced, and promptly made to leave.

"Mrs. Hamilton I’m afraid you mistake my intent-"

"Must you make me speak the words which cut my heart so?" Eliza had whirled back around to accuse him and had been met with sincerely apologetic eyes.

"Please, I do not understand the meaning of this," John Laurens had insisted, and so Eliza had made a retort.

"Do you think I do not know that my husband loves you? Do you think I am not aware that he longs for your touch? Do you think it pleases me to be aware that I am not enough for him and that I never will be?"

"Madam, he loves your person dearly," John had leapt out of bed, agitated, and Eliza had retreated. "His devotion to you is just as it should be. He has made it clear to me often and vehemently that there is no part of you that is not worth of his every affection. I should not wish to stand in the way of a happy marriage."

 "And yet, Mr. Laurens, I am not enough for Mr. Hamilton. I must take leave of this house, for I am sure I cannot take stumbling upon the two of you together again."

 John Laurens had stared after her in disbelief as she had escaped to a friend’s house, Philip on her hip.

When she returned the next morning, fully intending to merely gather more of her belongings, she found her husband, fully dressed -small mercy- waiting for her, in a state of mental disarray and anxiety, pacing in extreme agitation. John Laurens was nowhere in sight, although she suspected he had not packed his bags and left. "Eliza, my dearest, I must explain-"

"And what would you wish to explain, husband, which I do not already know?"

"John and I, we- Well, I do not aim to hurt you with my actions."

"I should hope not, for that would make you a cold man and a cruel husband." Eliza had responded. "Although I dearly wish that you had told me I was to be a means to an end. And to believe when Angelica warned me you might only be after my fortune I laughed at her. How foolish you must have thought me then. How you must have laughed at me when I revealed my hopes and dreams to you, believing them to be reciprocated. Indeed I would have quite liked to marry for love, but I would have settled for your honest friendship, if that was all you had been able to give. There was no need to pretend, Alexander, never with me and it hurts me that you believed you had to."

"Eliza, you misunderstand," Alexander had stepped close, had wrapped his hands around her and kissed her, desperately. Against her desire to remain stern and cold, Eliza melted into his embrace, for she did love him, dearly. "I love you, Eliza. You are the best woman in my life and the only woman I wish to have by my side. But John is, in essence, to me what you are, but quite male."

"Truly?" Eliza had been confounded, for a moment. "You mean to tell me that you love me, when my eyes have been visited by the sight of you entangled between the sheets with that man? When I have seen the love in your eyes upon seeing and embracing him? When, even now, I can smell what transpired between you and him recently? Please, do not play me for a fool, Alexander, it is unbecoming of you."

"Yes, my love," Alexander had cast his eyes down, ashamed. "I apologize for hurting you, and can only reiterate that I wish I could have avoided it. But in my heart there is longing for you and John, and I do not know how to stop it. I tried, Eliza. Please believe me when I say I tried. He has made good on his word that he will not interfere in our marriage and departed to an inn."

"Angelica warned me that you would not be satisfied, that you would seek more and more until you ruined yourself and everyone around you. I heeded none of her warnings, too blindly caught up in my love for you was I. How monumentally naive I have been."

"I am satisfied by you, this you can believe without a doubt. Betsey, my dearest Betsey, you cannot imagine how happy you have made me, simply by being the loving wife that you are. I simply mean to say that- Well, to have both you and John in my life would be so much a blessing that I feel I should never want for anything again." And in that moment Alexander Hamilton had looked quite helpless. 

Despite herself, Eliza found herself laughing, for her husband was spouting nonsense. "Indeed, if your heart requires him at bed and board, Alexander, then quite obligingly I will let you have him, for above all I desire your happiness. But do not pretend that you should ever not be wanting for _something_ , for in that case you will have rendered yourself quite delusional."

"Truly, Eliza, do you mean it?" Alexander had kissed her, deeply and breathlessly, and Eliza had melted into his embrace. How little a thing was it, to have to share her husband’s affections, if it meant she could remain by his side and raise his children? He did not mistreat her and he did not loathe her, and perhaps Eliza had been a fool to expect any marriage could be as happy as her's had been.

"I mean it if you shall swear on all the things you hold dear that our love will not suffer for it, nor the children." A tender hand had caressed Eliza’s swelling bump, and Alexander had fallen to his knees and kissed it, pressing his face against it carefully.

"No, never, my Betsey, for to cause you pain is the single last thing I should ever desire. To see you cry is to feel my heart rupture."

"Then so it shall be."

+

John Laurens made his residence in their home quite a permanent one, and though Eliza had tried to staunchly avoid him, she found that she could not quite succeed in these efforts while they lived together.

"Mrs. Hamilton," he inclined his head in greeting as he sought her out in the garden behind their house, hat clutched to his chest. "I should like to speak to you, for a moment."

"Then it seems I shall give you a moment to speak, Mr. Laurens," she had responded while tending to her flowers. On her knees and thus turned away from him, it was easy to manage a semblance of collectedness. 

"May I request that you look upon my face as I offer my gratitude?" Gratitude, Eliza had thought scathingly, gratitude that, like one of the decadent Romans, she had agreed to share her husband with this odious man. If Eliza had a stronger heart of resolve, like Angelica, she would have jilted her husband. She ought to have. It shamed her, the thought that she was not enough for him, the constant fear that he would neglect her, that his bond with John Laurens would only strengthen while theirs slowly crumbled. Was it not the aim of this man to take her husband from her, and to leave her with nothing? Was that not why he persisted underneath her roof? Was that not why he drew such unholy noises from her husband in the dead of the night? Was that not why he made noises in return which left Eliza crying into her pillow, all by her lonesome?

The entire house was stained by his presence, permeating into every crevice that had once belonged to Alexander and Eliza alone. 

But, Eliza choked a sob, Alexander had never truly been her's to begin with.

"I do believe you are free to request such a thing, as I am free to deny your request."

"Please," he had whispered, and Eliza had snapped her head up at last to see genuine terror in his eyes. "I need to discern if this arrangement truly does not bother you."

"It is not the arrangement that bothers me, Mr. Laurens," Eliza had responded, colder than initially intended, "It is your person that offends. But as you supplement my husband’s happiness so greatly, I feel I shall bear it like one bears a great many other things."

"Forgive me, my lady, for I do not know in which manner my person offends you. I had considered, perhaps, that it is the nature of what I do with your husband you find offensive, but you do not seem to fault him for such acts and so I do not understand why you would judge one sinner but not the other."

Eliza’s expression had softened, considerably. "In truth, Mr. Laurens, it is because your showing here has greatly wounded my vanity, which previously I had not thought I possessed too much of."

"Your vanity?" John Laurens had been flabbergasted, thoughtlessly reaching for her hand when she had tried to move past him. The sheer indecency outraged Eliza. How dare he presume to touch, even innocently?

"My hands are soiled, Mr. Laurens, and now it appears your fine gloves are as well."

"Your vanity need not be offended, Mrs. Hamilton, for indeed you remain a wife any man should be made to beg to receive even the slightest indication of affection from."

"Your words remain as they always have, Mr. Laurens, equally charming as they are false." She had withdrawn her hand hastily, and returned to the house.

+

"Alexander," John had sighed when, in the aftermath of their coupling he had pulled Alexander into his arms and pressed soft kisses into his fiery hair, "Your wife needs you."

"My wife has assured me she does not require me in our bed tonight, dear Laurens, she was quite insistent. I believe her progressing pregnancy is the reason behind our increase in intimacy."

"My god, man, can you really be so blind?" John had groaned. "You hurt her and you rake her heart through the mud by keeping me in your house as a veritable mistress. Only her astounding dignity has allowed her to keep her face and I am inclined to quit you and be done with you if you do not make it right with her."

"You would not leave me, John, surely?"

"Your Eliza is the best woman I have ever met, but in your selfishness to insist on having both of us you have made her more miserable than I can say. I am fully of the opinion that, had I been in her place, I would have kicked you out of my life and returned to my father."

"She agreed to this, she agreed to let you stay for as long as we desired." Alexander had protested, a little weakly.

"Mrs. Hamilton agreed because you have given her the impression that it was the only way she could keep your affections, and that is unfair and cruel of you to demand. She feels she does not truly hold your heart and it is unspeakably cruel of you that you have undertaken no endeavors to convince her otherwise."

John pushed him out of their bed. "Make it right, Alexander, or I swear you will find me gone from this bed to never return. It is not my aim to hurt that poor woman, only to love you. And if I cannot do one without the other, then I shall force myself to ignore the predispositions of my own heart and be done with you."

+

"Why does John offend you, my dear?" Alexander had asked her in bed, some nights later, as his strong hand stroked her growing stomach tenderly.

"He has addressed the issue to you?"

"I fear he worries, dear Betsey, and please consider that if this arrangement upsets you I shall endeavor to remove him from my life, if it would only make you happier." Alexander had spent the last few days immersed in deep thought as he considered John’s ultimatum. Had he really hurt this woman so deeply, simply by loving someone else equally?

"In truth, Alex, my love, it was the disparaging way he spoke about women when he spoke to me the first time he visited which offended me. I feel as though he is derisive of them and in turn sees our marriage as secondary to what the two of you possess, because I am a woman and he seems not to hold respect for us poor creatures."

Alexander had whispered words of comfort into her ear that she had scarcely heard, too heavily burned the shame behind her ears. "How can I convince you otherwise, my dearest? Tell me what I can do to make you feel my love. Shall I send him away? Is that what it takes? You are my dearest, bestest wife, and I should never like to lose you." The words were spoken tearfully, and Eliza had told him to keep John Laurens. She had experienced Alexander without him, and had become acutely aware of how much her husband needed his Laurens.

+

"Mrs. Hamilton," John Laurens called out to her as he approached her once more, this time in her kitchen. "I should like to beg for another word with you."

"Then by all means, Mr. Laurens, do so, for I do not quite feel at liberty to deny you."

"Upon my honor, my lady, if you do not wish to speak to me I shall respect your wishes. You need not even see me, I shall be gone from this house the moment you make your desires known."

"But now you have intrigued me, I fear, so say your piece and be done with it."

"Your husband has intimated to me that you feel I do not respect you, or your sex in general, and I feel I must apologize for having given you that impression, because indeed I hold you in the highest esteem as both my Alexander’s dearest wife and as a woman. Quite so, from the first time we met I have considered you to be a woman more should aspire to be like, and that any man who had the singular opportunity to call you his wife would be the luckiest in the world."

Eliza could not help the blush that stained her cheeks, and she turned around swiftly to hide it.

"I apologize. I believe I have offended further without meaning to. I meant only to- Well, if my words were inappropriate, I sincerely-"

"Stop, Mr. Laurens, I beg of you," Eliza had finally gathered the strength to reply, "For you do yourself too great a discredit."

"Pardon?"

"You spoke of our first meeting, and I am astounded that you recalled it at all, for it was indeed quite a short one, and therefore I had thoroughly convinced myself that you _could_ not recall it, as I was in then out of your sight in such rapid succession that by your own account you ought to have forgotten we ever met. It is what upset me. That you should not remember an interaction I looked back upon fondly for months."

"Oh," John Laurens had stammered, hands clasped firmly behind his back, unable to process the whole truth of what Eliza had confessed to immediately. Unlike her Hamilton, John Laurens considered his words before he gave her a reply. No less hot-headed, but not lacking the ability to contain the same storm that always consumed Alexander. "Perhaps, Mrs. Hamilton, I should have made my meaning plainer when we happened upon one another at your doorstep that first time, for when I said that women scarcely manage to captivate me, I ought to have assured you that you remain a stunning exception. For, I too have often thought of when we first met."

Eliza had tried to ignore the way her heart beat in her chest, suddenly fluttering like a caged bird against her ribs. 

"Indeed?" She had managed to get out despite her predicament. John Laurens had regarded her, quite oddly, and nodded. In that moment, though he was standing at quite a distance across the kitchen, he may as well have been a hairsbreadth away from Eliza for all the intimacy she suddenly felt.

"Yes, indeed. Although, were I to recount specifically when or how often you have been in my thoughts since then, I believe I would quite spectacularly make a fool of myself."

"How do you mean, Mr. Laurens?"

"I mean, Mrs. Hamilton," he sighed as he stepped closer, one foot then another, "That I have thought, not infrequently, of the way it felt to embrace your body for those brief few seconds, and I have indeed failed miserably at being happy for my dearest Alexander when in his letter, written not two months after I first had the pleasure of meeting you, he intimated that you were engaged to be married. By all accounts I was jealous that you had earned his affection so wholly, but I could never find fault with you for that, for how could he resist a woman such as you?"

The ground was no longer steady, and Eliza felt her head spin, grabbing the counter to remain steady. Concern touched John Laurens’ brow and he bounded forward, reaching out a hand to hold to her forehead. "You are not feverish by any account, so I must assume that my words are the cause of your sudden upset, and I apologize once more. They were utterly inappropriate, and I fear I really do not have the gift for eloquence that your husband seems to possess."

Eliza managed a desperate laugh. "Indeed your words are something else, Mr. Laurens."

+

John and Alexander fought, Eliza found out one evening after Alexander came home from work, exhausted and unwilling to indulge John's need for a serious conversation. Eliza had retired to the backyard and instructed Philip in checking the produce for maggots, but even here she could hear their raised voices, inflamed by passions. Eliza and Alexander never fought like that, if only because Eliza was loathe to raise her voice the way John Laurens was wont to. This side of Alexander had scared her a little, for she had never seen him direct such vicious words at someone he claimed to care about.

John Laurens had stormed out of their house with his coat in hand, had inclined his head at her apologetically and left. Alexander had sought Eliza out later as she had prepared dinner, and had cried into her shoulder.

"What has happened, my love?"

"I am sorry, Betsey, that you had to hear that."

"I have never known you to raise your voice at a loved one in anger, my dear, and I worry for poor Mr. Laurens’ heart."

"Tell me plainly," he had formed a new line of questioning, "Is it as John has claimed? That you feel I have been negligent in my attentions to you? It seems he has declared himself something like your champion, Mrs. Hamilton, and taken me to task for my foolishness."

"Has he?"

"Quite," Alexander had rubbed his temples, exhausted. "He has once more threatened to quit me if I will not devote more of my time to you."

"I am as happy as I can be with my lot, Alexander," Eliza had explained as she had held him to her bosom. "I cannot pretend that I would not be happier to be the exclusive object of your affections, that I feel left out of the bond you share with him. But darling, to see how happy he makes you lifts my heart."

"Oh, Eliza." Alexander had kissed her and taken her to bed then and there, had spent hours devoting everything he had to offer to make her body sing. By the end of it, Eliza had been unable to move from bed, body alive and on fire with satisfaction.

Alexander had left just before dawn, on a mission for General Washington, and just as the sun rose two burly men had dragged a beat up John Laurens to her doorstep.

"Is this one yours, Madam?" A rough-looking fellow had demanded to know, and Eliza’s heart had stopped for a second. His entire face was swollen, one of his eyes shut tight and violently purple, his mouth filled with blood and his body limp. Was he alive? If he should die now, it could not be borne-

"Leave him to my care and acquit yourselves of your charge, gentlemen. I thank you. Do you require something for your troubles?"

"Ale wouldn’t hurt," the smaller of the two men had shrugged, but the larger had smacked the back of his head distastefully. "Leave the woman be, Beddows, can’t you see she is distraught? Apologies, Madam, this one learned his manners in the gutter. We won’t trouble you."

They deposited John on the bed and excused themselves promptly. The door had shut behind them, and Eliza set to task immediately. A wet cloth had made John Laurens come to with a startled gasp. Panicked blue eyes had settled into confusion when he had recognized Eliza.

"Careful, Mr. Laurens, or my stitches shall leave you with quite an ugly scar, and how upset Alexander will then be that I have marred your handsomeness."

"Where is Alexander?" His voice had been so broken.

"I expect him in a week, Mr. Laurens, he left under orders from General Washington," she had responded, wringing the cloth and moving it to his lip tenderly. Still swollen, but he had admirably not hissed at the contact until she pressed down a little. One of his hands had come to clutch at her wrist. Eliza gasped at the contact, and their eyes had met. For a few seconds they shared their breaths. "Why?" John Laurens had asked her, the word dripping with a thick accent. His meaning was understood plainly.

"Because you and I both love Alexander, and he loves both of us. And so you will stay with us and I will find out if I can be prevailed upon to grow to care for you as well, through the love we bear him. The old testament condones it-"

"Mrs. Hamilton, I do not deserve that-"

"Hush, Mr. Laurens," Eliza had dismissed, keenly aware of the hand still lingering at her wrist. "Allow me to tend to your wounds, and forget any thoughts of inadequacy. It makes this whole thing easier."

"Perhaps for you, because unlike with me, there is not a single fault to be found within you, Mrs. Hamilton," John Laurens had intimated, quietly, as though it cost him quite a bit to say this. Not the compliment, for those always flowed easily from his tongue and Eliza had learned to discount them, but the admission to a tortured soul.

"There is none amongst this earth that can boast a total lack of flaws, Mr. Laurens, myself included."

"What could you possibly consider a stain on your character?"

"What could you?" Eliza had retorted. John Laurens had looked pained.

"I am brash and perhaps too impassioned, too willing to resort to violence to achieve my ends. I desire things I should not. I try to fight my volitions and lose. I go out and look for pain when I am lost to forgiveness," he had confessed. Eliza had pressed the cloth to his temple, hesitantly offering clemency, and gifted him a smile.

 "Consider then, Mr. Laurens, that the faults you have listed make you who you are, and that is my husband’s beloved. Think on that."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hamilton."

"Rest now, Mr. Laurens. You have taken quite a beating."

"Please, keep this from Alexander. It would shame him to know I was spoiling for a fight in the streets."

"I will say nothing of it, but I will not lie to him should he ask," Eliza had nodded, and left Mr. Laurens to his own devices. In retrospect, Eliza would pinpoint that moment as a pivotal shift in their conduct with one another.

+

It had been one of the rare days which her husband came home early from work, whilst John Laurens was off making calls around the city. The heat in the city was almost unbearable and by noon Eliza felt a layer of sweat settle into her skin. Perhaps a bath would be pleasant later.

"Oh, my Betsey" Alexander, ever insatiable, had groaned into her ear and she had felt his arousal firmly against her backside. Pregnancy had left Eliza just as wanton the second time around, only this time she had her husband available and not fighting off the British. "Alexander," she had moaned when his hands had begun to bunch up her skirts desperately. She felt him jolt straighter behind her, heightening both their pleasure and unavoidably seeking the point of no return.

Alexander seized the opportunity of her willing submission and kissed her in a way she was still unaccustomed to, even after so long being married to him, his mouth and tongue hot and demanding against every crevice of her skin he could find, both cooling her skin and setting her insides aflame. There was no way to protect herself from freely being swept up in his ardor. "Alexander, we cannot, the pregnancy is too far along-"

"I had not in mind to be joined with you tonight, Eliza, but it seems to me I ought to reward you, and perhaps remind myself that I do not deserve as fine a woman as you are, lest I grow arrogant and ignorant of my fortunes." Alexander’s eyes had twinkled as he dropped to his knees and disappeared beneath her skirts eagerly; his lips and tongue hard at work. Eliza’s eyes closed, and when his tongue flicked over her most sensitive place she forgot, momentarily, that they were quite visible in their sitting room. Such indecent behavior ought to have been restricted to the bedroom, but Eliza craved her husband’s touch, and thus she did not protest. Instead she leaned against the sofa, hands fisting the fabric tightly and closing her eyes as he lapped her up.

"Oh, my Alexander, Christ above, Alexander – please," her voice had turned into a broken, ecstatic whimper, her husband’s attentions to her quite lavish and effective. Her pleasure built steadily and forcefully, and even the sound of the door opening could not stop her orgasm from rippling through her, even as panicked eyes opened to view John Laurens, dropping the letters in his hands and quite openly staring at her as her whole body shivered, coming apart on her husband’s tongue with a sensual, uncontrolled moan. "Oh, god, have mercy on your poor servant." Laurens had barely spoken above a whisper, but the words had shaken Eliza to her very soul.

"I do believe my husband made a foolish mistake when he told me you would not be home for some hours yet, Mr. Laurens," Eliza panted, unable to will the aftereffects of her pleasure from her voice as she wanted to. John Laurens stared at her in a manner she was unable to comprehend, mouth gaping as he struggled to find any words at all.

 Alexander appeared from beneath her skirts, his face red and wet, and grinned at John Laurens. "Indeed I have miscalculated grossly, dearest wife."

"Perhaps then, if we cannot be joined while my pregnancy progresses, you ought to have him take care of your pleasure whilst I hang my head in mortification." Eliza had spoken her part and disappeared.

To be seen in such a state by a man she could not call her husband was horrifying, and, as she reluctantly admitted to herself, oddly thrilling. A jolt of excitement had coursed through her when she had noticed the witness, before it had been overshadowed by her turmoil. If her husband and John Laurens did seek out their own pleasure after that occurrence, she did not hear it.

+

The oddest times in the early stages of their arrangements were invariably the trips Alexander had to make out of the city regularly, leaving John and Eliza together with Philip in a house that felt at the same time too large for just the two of them and two small for them to comfortably keep their lives separate.

"I thought I might avail myself to aid your dinner preparation tonight," John had appeared in the kitchen, hands clasped firmly behind his back. Eliza had shrugged and directed him to the potatoes that still needed preparation, washing and peeling and the like. He had set to the task diligently and had not addressed her for some time.

"Have you any plans made for tonight?" John had wondered, once he had prepared an adequate amount of produce, handing it over to Eliza to chuck into her waiting pot.

"What sort of plans ought I have made, in your opinion?" Eliza wondered as she stirred what she hoped would become a palatable stew.

"There is a rendition on Broadway of Othello, and you mentioned once that it was one of your favorite plays. I thought you might like to come and see it with me," John had suggested, respectfully and carefully, sure to remain a proper distance away. Eliza had dropped the spoon into the stew anyway, splashed some of the hot broth onto her skin and hissed. John was quick to bring her a cold, damp cloth to wrap around the injured area, taking the task upon himself to inspect her skin for a burn, claiming some medical training. 

"Thank you," she had whispered, offering him a careful smile.

"Shall I take that visceral reaction as your answer to my invitation, Mrs. Hamilton?"

"No," she was quick to retort, "I was merely surprised, that is all. I should very much like to go see it."

A friend of Eliza’s happily watched Philip on short notice and she changed out of her dinner-splashed dress into one of her finer gowns. John Laurens waited for her in the sitting room and stood up hastily when she appeared on top of the stairs, staring up at her strangely.

John had offered her his arm and they had enjoyed the performance quite a bit. Afterwards John suggested extending the short way home through a small promenade. For a long while he recounted a few stories of a happy childhood, prompting Eliza to reveal more of her own heart. He expressed a wish to at last meet the much praised Angelica, and Eliza had laughed and declared that she would readily set up a meeting when next she was allowed to cross the ocean. They fell into amiable conversation quite readily, and Eliza admitted, if only in the privacy of her mind, that she very much enjoyed his company.

"In truth, Mrs. Hamilton, I wanted to take this opportunity to speak to you about our dearest Alexander, as I have felt recently that he overexerts himself in his effort to shape the future of our young country," John had revealed, and Eliza had not minded that he confided in her, bound by their love for Alexander as they were.

"You know him better than I, Mr. Laurens," Eliza had sighed, "But I cannot pretend to have been ignorant of it. I fear this means you have had as little success as I have in urging him to take a break?"

"It appears so. The last time he took a break was-" John stopped, had bitten his tongue as he recalled the last time Alexander had arrived early from work, when he had happened upon Eliza coming undone upon his tongue. Eliza’s cheeks flushed crimson and she turned her face to the ground, unsure why her body suddenly felt the phantom heat of a midday sun.

"I, well," John begun another sentence, taking a short break to sort out his words, "I wished to speak to you about that day as well. Is this an opportunity for me to do so?"

"Rest assured that I was equally mortified that you chanced upon us," Eliza had refuted, only to be met with a carefully raised brow and a soft smile as John shook his head.

"I was not mortified, Mrs. Hamilton, quite the opposite," he confessed. Eliza had stopped abruptly, and John had stopped with her, turning his head down to look her in the eye. Oh, but he did look good like that, hat on his head and one or two curls tumbling across his forehead.

Eliza had always thought John less bold than her Alexander, only to now be proven entirely wrong. To her he had always seemed subtle, but the way he caressed her cheek now was anything but. "It was a sight I shall not soon forget, to see you thus entranced by the passions of your husband."

John’s thumb had touched her lower lip softly as she stared up at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place, unable to move out of fear that his soft touch would be withdrawn. Her lips had fallen open and Eliza had exhaled shakily against him. John had leaned in, glancing to and fro between her eyes and lips multiple times before pressing a silken kiss onto her parted lips. He leaned back immediately, the whole affair was terribly chaste, but Eliza nonetheless felt prone to swoon any second now.

"Pardon my impertinence, Mrs. Hamilton, but I fear I could not resist," he had cleared his throat when Eliza had shown no reaction past a deep maroon blush and wide, fearful eyes.

"Mr. Laurens I am a _married_ woman," she had squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, desperate to clear away whatever he had ignited in her with his tenderness. "And, unlike my husband, I will not budge from my vows of fidelity. I love him too much and only the deepest love could persuade me to-"

"Of course," John had nodded, kindly and full of understanding that Eliza had not possessed. How could he understand, when she did not even understand herself? "Please forgive me for my foolishness. Shall we make our way home?"

He had made no further comment, had taken her rebuttal at face value and remained perfectly cordial. Eliza had lain awake that night, fingers playing absent-mindedly with her lips. So delicate had his kiss been that she debated if he had really kissed her at all, but she could not deny it. The treacherous corners of her mind she had not known to be existent longed for him to kiss her earnestly, as Alexander often took upon himself to do. It shamed her to feel such a thing for her husband’s lover and so she resolved to smother these odd thoughts, for surely it was better to nip them at the bud before they had a chance to bloom?

+

It had been some weeks after that evening at the theater, when Eliza’s pregnancy had swelled to a full, that the three of them had dinner together, as they did most nights. Eliza listened as her husband debated with John Laurens over a case he was working on, representing a property theft.

"It is indeed quite true that selfish men often covet what does not belong to them," John had agreed, and Eliza had not missed the bashful glance he had shot her. She had concentrated quite hard on picking at her food. She was oddly reminded of a conversation they had, a while in the past now, about his character deficits.

"How right you are, John," Alexander had mused in agreement. "Often I find that what one covets will consume thoughts of anything else if one does not act to have it."

"And what do you covet, dearest?" John had asked, teasingly, a remark Eliza had felt in her very bones. She could not but feel that John intended to address her as well as Alexander with his words. John had not looked at her as he said it, but he chanced another glance at her after the words left his mouth.

"A great many things, as you can imagine. I covet power, I covet a place amongst those debating the constitution, I covet the glory that men who have done less than I have been rewarded with to freely bask in. Such is the nature of my character. So it has always been."

"I do believe both Mr. Laurens and I are well acquainted with your unending hunger for more of anything in every aspect of your life, Alexander," Eliza had joined in, "But I can say nothing of the sort for poor Mr. Laurens."

Alexander had laughed and taken her hand across the table. Perhaps John understood her words as a warning not to further tread on this path, as their eyes met again. 

"You will find, my Betsey, John is by far a better man than I am, for he is more often satisfied than wanting, content to be surrounded by those he holds dear as he fights for the satisfaction of others, such as the affections he bestows upon myself or the struggles he faces for those more worthy of his exertions."

"You speak of his abolitionist efforts," Eliza had smiled, and nodded approvingly. Over the course of their time together she had heard much of his heart. Too much, in some regards. "A cause I judge most worthy."

"As I know you to be the best of wives and best of women, Eliza dear, I did not think you could have given any response that pleased me better than you already do each day, and yet you manage to charm me more with each word you speak." Alexander had taken her hand and kissed it, ardently gazing at her with hungry eyes that left her flushed and equally hungry.

"You give false praise of my character, my friend," John Laurens had interjected, resolved to continue a line of conversation Eliza would see buried. "For while I may not be as hungry as you are, my Hamilton, I often find myself guilty of coveting things I can never hope to attain."

"Indeed? This is the first I have heard of it, my Laurens, and I would ask you to elaborate for the sake of understanding a part of your mind I have not known until today."

Please don’t, Eliza had nearly blurted out, but restrained her tongue and was thus not granted clemency from hearing John Laurens speak. "In truth, Alexander, I recently discovered I covet a married woman’s affections with nigh every breath I take. She consumes my thoughts both day and night."

Hamilton laughed loudly at that, uproariously, unaware which wife John was referring to. "And here I thought your heart was faithful to only me, dear Laurens. As it is I cannot encourage the careless seduction of a married woman, although I do believe an uncommonly handsome lad such as yourself ought not to find it hard to convince any girl to hoist her skirts for you."

"Do you think so, Alexander?" John had sounded rather mirthless as he forced a laugh.

"You know well I can go on and on about your many virtues, John."

"It is only that, as I have grown so out of practice with the intricacies of seducing a lady while reserving my affections solely for you over the course of so many years that I fear any attempt I make shall prove unsuccessful. In any case I do not think this wife would ever deign to have me, and I would not consider myself worthy of her affections even if she did take pity on me," John had explained.

"Perhaps we ought to find you a wife of your own then, a woman that requires little seducing and still less care," Alexander had suggested jovially and John had laughed but shaken his head.

"I hardly think that would permit our liaison to carry on in the future. It shall be most exhausting to find a woman as obliging and reasonable as your Elizabeth."

Alexander had stood up and crossed to Eliza’s chair. She had smiled tightly, and been kissed tenderly. "There is no woman in the world that could hold a candle to my Eliza."

"How right you are," John had mused, quietly. Eliza had excused herself to bed soon after and lain awake most of the night, afflicted both by the life growing inside of her and John Lauren’s words.

+

Alexander was away for a meeting in Philadelphia when the time finally came. Eliza found herself in the kitchen one morning, keenly aware of John Laurens’ eyes on her as she worked her fingers raw in the name of making a palatable dessert, when her first spells of intense pain had hit her. As this was fortunately not her first pregnancy, she had learnt to know what this meant. Still, the pain was immense, close to unbearable, and she doubled over, holding her hand out to hang onto something, anything, but miscalculating. And like within a memory that she had tried to ignore, John Laurens was there, holding her steady, holding her upright. A constant.

"Is it time? Is the baby-?"

"I do believe it is as you say it is, Mr. Laurens," she whimpered as another bout of pain washed over her, and then there was a sudden pop that left her skirts drenched and her body slacking against strong arms, much larger than her husband’s. "Where to, my lady?"

"To bed," she managed to croak out through the pain, "And I believe someone ought to alert a doctor."

Despite the doctor’s protestations, John Laurens sat at the side of her bed as she screamed her lungs out. " _You are not this lady’s husband, as I understand it_ -" the doctor had protested and been coldly insulted by John Laurens in return. "I will _remain_ ," his voice held a potent threat, one that promised instant and thorough retaliation in case of a mishap.

He was decidedly careful as he wiped her brow free of sweat, over and over again. He rubbed her back tenderly, he whispered soothing words to her as she pushed through.

"Mr. Laurens, has my husband arrived?" She would wail, every once in a while, "Has there been a note sent to him to alert him?"

"I do not know, Mrs. Hamilton, I wish I could say," John had told her, sincerity flooding the room.

"Please," Eliza had panted, exhausted and tearful, "I cannot continue. I am finished, Mr. Laurens-"

But Laurens had vowed to pay her no mind, had positioned himself on the bed with her and let her squeeze his hand until he could no longer feel it, had held her through the whole ordeal and had not ceased his endless stream of support.

 She wished then that she would have had someone by her side like this the first time she gave birth.

Hours later, the ordeal was done, and Eliza had gifted her husband another child - A daughter, this time, which she christened Angelica, as previously discussed with Alexander.

John regarded her with the babe in her arms, leaning against the bedframe, arms crossed and smiling inexplicably. "Beautiful." The words had flooded Eliza with warmth before she realized how deeply they affected her, and then they left her anguished as she became aware of how much she had come to care for Mr. John Laurens.

"Isn’t she?" Eliza gushed, beaming up at him as she cooed over her perfect little angel.

"I do not intend to disparage the evident charms of the daughter, Mrs. Hamilton, but my compliments were visited upon the mother."

Eliza’s mouth went dry, suddenly. What she was feeling, in that moment, was very wrong and entirely shameful. She had a husband. She had vowed to give her Alexander the entirety of her heart, and yet, there was John Laurens, responsible for adjusting the rate of her heartbeat in this moment.  

"You should not say such things, Mr. Laurens."

"And why not?" He wondered. "To deny it would be to perjure myself."

"But to simply refrain from saying things you know to be inappropriate would be a kindness to me, do you not agree?"

"Inappropriate," John repeated the word slowly, testing it out. "The whole country would consider my relationship with your husband to be inappropriate. I do believe it would in fact be more widely accepted for me to pine over you, Mrs. Hamilton."

"Please," Eliza whimpered desperately, clutching her daughter tightly, "I must ask you to leave and to never suggest something so scandalous to me again."

John Laurens looked crestfallen, but he complied and excused himself politely. Come the morning he was gone, having left a note that claimed he had business to attend to in the south, and would return when it was once more convenient and acceptable. How dastardly kind he was, Eliza realized, that he would choose to respect even wishes made against the true desires of her heart.

Alexander’s mood dampened, if only a little. Eliza’s did too, though she refused to acknowledge it. For, she thought, if she acknowledged that she missed John Laurens, she confessed to having untoward thoughts about him and his piercing eyes.  

+

"Mrs. Hamilton," John Laurens’ voice startled her out of her daydream as she watched her husband dance with Lady Washington on the floor, some five months after he had taken leave of their residence. Eliza had previously had a turnabout with the President, who then excused himself on account of his knee. "May I ask for a dance with you?"

She did not think to ask what he might be doing here, although she wanted to. Truthfully there were many things she wanted to tell him that she held within her throat. But merely to be reunited with him, to watch him approach her regardfully, was enough for her heart to betray her sense once more. 

"You may," she placed her hand in his and tried not to blush at the careful smile on his face. John Laurens was an excellent dancer, and the thought occurred to Eliza that, had John Laurens stayed in camp and chosen to court her after their first meeting instead after she had made her vows to Alexander, she would have wracked her head trying to decide which man to take for a husband. But he had been married then, and thus the thought was both silly and needlessly torturous. 

As her heart beat wildly in her chest she recalled the last time she saw John Laurens, holding her and coaching her through a day long birth she was uncertain she would have survived without him by her side. And now little Angelica was almost half a year in age. How quickly time did fly.

She loved Alexander. She loved him and everything about him with her whole heart. But John Laurens had stolen his way into her affections with equal fervor and tenacity, so much so that a simple smile left her world spinning violently.  

"You have been attending business for quite some time, Mr. Laurens. Pray tell what returns you to New York?"

"I do not think you should wish to hear it, Mrs. Hamilton, but I desired to see both your husband and yourself once more, that is all. I shall not impose upon you for very long, merely a few days-"

"You should stay." Eliza had responded, too quickly. John had met her eyes and she had seen how hard he fought to refrain from showing overt hopefulness. 

After the music finished, John Laurens had kissed her hand and Eliza’s air had caught in her throat when his piercing blue eyes looked up at her from beneath his lashes.

"Madam, I beg permission to pay you a compliment."

"Since you beg, sir, I give it to you freely, for to deny you would be most cruel."

"And certainly, the last attribute that could be visited upon your person is cruelty," John Laurens assured her with a smile. "I simply wished to say that your beauty steals my breath this night, as it does most often when I am allowed to lay my gaze upon you."

"Mr. Laurens," she had blushed, not at liberty to say anything more against the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.

"Too forward again, perhaps? In that case I once more find myself apologizing for my untowardness." He had cringed, before she had assured him that, no, of course not. She had given him leave after all. What made her heart ache was how strongly she felt about his compliments.  

Alexander spotted them and greeted him cheerfully, overjoyed at his return. John Laurens resumed his residence in their house and resumed his relations with her husband. A sense of normalcy settled into their life. Eliza found herself quite content with her life, this time around.

+

This time around, there was no fault to be found with John Laurens’ behavior. He was kind and courteous while remaining fully within the boundaries of what any normal person would consider appropriate. One day he was helping Eliza with dinner preparations while regaling her with stories of his happier war days as an aide-de-camp. There was an easy camaraderie in their discourse these days, and Eliza relished their talks. 

"Of course the whole thing was overshadowed by a constantly looming threat, but more often than not it felt like family, certainly warmer than any relations I ever had with my father, and warmer than any other bonds I managed to forge in my lifetime." John smiled at her, sideways, and Eliza’s heart skipped a little beat before resuming its travails.

"How did-" Eliza cut her speech off before her mouth asked the question she had been curious about for years now.

"Yes?"

"It is not my place to ask, Mr. Laurens, and I hope this query does not offend you, but I wonder despite myself how you first came to know my husband carnally."

"Why, Mrs. Hamilton," Laurens gasped, mouth open in disbelief. "Do you truly wish to know? I must warn you it is not a story anyone could dare call appropriate." It was meant to be teasing and Eliza accepted it as such.

Eliza bent down to retrieve the large potato basket from their storage room, only for John to take it off her hands with one hand gently at the small of her back and set it on the counter with staggering ease.

"As I said, curiosity eats away at me."

"I certainly know what that feels like," John smiled, "And so I shall take it upon myself to relate the events to you."

"I arrived in camp in 1777, and from our very first meeting your husband and I thought each other to be something like kindred spirits, fighting for what we believed in, together. And while we were fairly certain the bond was mutual, your husband was up until then untouched by a man. Indeed one could say I am to blame for the corruption of Alexander Hamilton, as I don’t believe he has ever looked at another man after me-"

"How could he?" Eliza laughed, freely and openly, "For what man could he hope to find that compares to you?"

The words left her mouth unfiltered, and now Eliza deeply regretted them, for they gave John Laurens pause. She could not take them back, and they were true in any case, but she should not have said them aloud. They amounted to as much a confession as she had ever made regarding her feelings on this man and the matter that still loomed between them. He slowly turned to face her. "Mrs. Hamilton, I dare not infer from your words that they betray a sort of admiration for my character, which, if I recall correctly, you found many faults with."

"I have found hardly any flaws within your character, Mr. Laurens. My unkind words to you, which have given offense again and again, have always been a measure of distancing myself from you. Surely you know that?"

John Laurens exhaled, slowly and deliberately. He took a step towards her, crowding Eliza against the kitchen table. "Please, Mrs. Hamilton. You are too kind a woman to trifle with me." Hesitantly, his hands reached out to steady her hips, holding her in place. Eliza looked up at him and felt her heart beating out of her chest, wildly. "If your words were not meant to convey that you hold a smidge of desire, nay, perhaps even affections, for my person, then I must urge you to tell me so now before I fall even deeper beneath your spell."

"Pardon?"

"The truth is, Mrs. Hamilton, that you have bewitched me body and soul, like no other woman has ever managed, from the very first time you stumbled into my arms. And I fear- I fear that if it should turn out what you feel might somehow match what I do feel in my heart, then I will be lost to your charms entirely with no hope of recovery."

"It is as you said, Mr. Laurens," Eliza confessed, quietly, "That I have been equally smitten with you for quite some time."

"God above, have mercy on me," John whispered against her lips, shortly before he captured them. He was hesitant, nothing similar to the first kiss Alexander’s bestowed upon her, which was demanding and full of passion. John kissed like he could not quite imagine it was happening. As if, should he have applied himself to the art of it more, Eliza might have crumbled to dust beneath his hands and lips.

He drew away, stepped away to a chaste distance, and cleared his throat.

"My god," he whispered, touching his lips reverently. Eliza felt tears prickling behind her eyes. "No, please, do not cry," he insisted as he came close again, drawing her into his arms and kissing the tears that fell down her cheeks away tenderly, with such utmost care that she labored tirelessly to breathe, so constricted felt her chest.

"What you do to me, Mrs. Hamilton," John sighed, cupping her face gently and kissing her once more. Eliza whimpered against his lips, finally gaining control of her hands and using them to hold onto John Laurens’ lapels even as her racing thoughts left her dizzy. They kissed, with yet contained passion as she suspected John was hesitant to demand anything more than this, and by god, it felt exquisite. Not better nor worse than with her husband, but sweeter. Alexander was a hurricane, one John could match any day, but to her, John felt like a tender wave, lapping at the sand and wearing the harsh stone down over time, rather than by sheer overwhelming exposure.

"I should not-" John Laurens removed his lips and coughed before he resumed speaking. "I should not presume that you want this, Mrs. Hamilton. I apologize."

"I do want it," Eliza wept, "That is what upsets me so greatly that I spill tears. For what kind of wife am I to desire a man that is not my husband, and not only desire him with my body, but with my mind as well?"

John looked at her, hesitant once more. "As your husband avails himself to me for his pleasure, I feel it should be well within your rights to demand equal liberty concerning your marriage vows."

"I should think Alexander will have a different opinion on the matter." Eliza bit her lip, and John kissed her softly, again. He pulled back. "Indeed, Mrs. Hamilton, I confess I am not sure what your husband might make of this development, and yet, despite myself, I cannot bring myself to give it much thought, when I have you in my arms as I have wanted to for years."

Eliza whimpered breathlessly and, in a fit of what she might later have called foolishness, pulled John Laurens flush against her and kissed him, throwing caution to the wind. John shuddered with desire, threw himself into kissing her with previously undocumented passion and lifted her onto the table, settling between her legs as though he had always belonged there. His lips, full and soft, left hers to kiss down her neck in a way that Alexander had never done, scraping his teeth along her skin just so and leaving her flushed with desire pooling between her legs.

"Oh, _John_ ," she moaned as he sets about his work, pressing kisses to the top of her breasts, squeezing them, exploring every inch of her that was not covered by fabric but refusing to divest her of any vêtements she did not desire removed from her body.

"Madam you are most cruel to call my name in such my manner. You ought to know how you affect me."

"How do I affect you, John?" Eliza whispered, hesitantly. John pulled back, stared at her through hungry blue eyes and gently guided her hand to his breeches. "Oh my, John, that-" She stopped, flustered by his boldness, but dared not remove her hand. John ground against it, wantonly, groaning his pleasure into her ear as he nibbled on it to induce exquisite reactions from Eliza. Eliza gripped him firmly, working in coordination with this man before her. Their combined efforts left him reaching his completion within minutes.

"Thus strongly do I desire you, Madam, do you see? I cannot even control myself and instead find myself soiling my breeches as though I were an overeager schoolboy instead of a man worthy of you." He connected their foreheads, clearly embarrassed, and it was so sweet that Eliza found herself laughing despite herself. Eliza breathed heavily against him, their shared breath warm and tasting faintly of the tea she had previously offered him. "I would not-" he began, kissing down her neck once more and showering it unduly in affection, "I would not be prevailed upon to offer reciprocation unless you made it clear that it is what you desire from me."

"I do wish it, John, I do."

"Oh, indeed? How do you wish for me to draw you to completion? Shall my fingers guide you over the edge or shall I attempt to replicate what your husband made you feel, when I once walked in on the two of you in the throes of passion?"

"If you find yourself predisposed towards the latter I would gladly let you have at it, but I find myself longing for the former."

"Then my fingers you shall have, madam," he assured her, busying himself bunching up her skirts and carefully running a hand up her thigh. He looked intrigued when he felt the first traces of her desire, halfway up her thigh. "Why, Mrs. Hamilton, I find you positively dripping at the prospect of me," he whispered into her ear, in a tone that made her feel utterly destitute in the face of his charms,in a way that left her desperately holding onto him. "Have you imagined us thus, at night in your bed?" John inquired as his fingers began their diligent work, slowly driving Eliza insane.

"Have you thought about what my fingers could do to you? How intense an orgasm I could coax out of you with them?"

"Yes," Eliza admitted, freely, "I have imagined all that and more."

"Tell me, my dearest Mrs. Hamilton, what have you imagined?"

"Right now I imagine that surely you ought to call me Eliza while we are thus joined?"

"I would not presume to call you anything without your express invitation, considering that I have been rebuffed before when I called you by your first name."

"Call me by my name, John, please. Call me what you like."

"Then I should not call you Eliza, but rather my dearest, my love, best of wives and best of women," John confessed, quietly, even as his fingers picked up speed. "For that is what you are to me, that is what you have always been."

"Oh, John," she moaned, seeking out the tenderness of his lips as she reached her peak on his long fingers, clenching around him violently.

When it was done, Eliza’s chest suddenly flooded with shame and she began to weep. Still, when John held her and told her that there was no shame in what they felt, she did not push him away, electing instead to let herself find comfort in his arms, as her husband had, many times before.

+

John’s hips set a bruising pace for Alexander that night when he came home, and when he closed his eyes his mind drifted from the moment to the woman lying next door in her marriage bed, alone yet deserving of both her husband’s and John’s attention. It was the thought of her, like earlier, that had him acting like an inexperienced youth when he emptied himself into his lover.

"Fuck, John," Alexander had shuddered beneath him, his face rubbed red by the wool of their covers. "Have I drawn you to completion so quickly?"

"Apologies, my love, I will be more than happy to make it up to you."

"Perhaps I should set my Betsey to the task of taming you, see if she cannot teach you some control over your faculties," Alexander had laughed even as John’s insides had turned to ice. Did he suspect? Was it said in jest or was there truthful desire in his voice? He did not dare ask, but curiosity ate away at him.

"You would invite her into bed with us?" John had kept his voice deliberately gruff. Alexander had sighed and pushed his head down towards his cock, explaining his fantasy as John worked on him.

"If I did not think that the two of you were -oh, fuck- entirely opposed to the idea, John, I would have suggested it long ago. For nothing - ah, shit- could make me happier than to have the joint rulers of my heart avail themselves to me together, fuck, fuck, god, John I'm-"

"Perhaps you should tell your wife that," John had joked in the aftermath of it, unsure if he ought to be elated that Hamilton would not mind Eliza joining them or anxious that it did not mean he should like to share her. Alexander had talked only of Eliza and John jointly pleasuring him, there was nothing said of what might happen between the two people that loved their Alexander beyond reason.

+

It was a month later that John decided to mention it at dinner. For too long his eyes had followed Eliza, who seemed quite determined to forget the whole affair. But sometimes, when she thought he was unaware, he caught her watching him wistfully, and knew then that she still desired him equally. "Alexander, I wonder if you might permit me to confess something to you."

"Have you turned to seek solace in the catholic faith as of late, my dear Laurens?" Alexander laughed good-naturedly.

"Do you recall a conversation we had, some time ago, when we talked about what men covet?"

"Indeed I do, and I think you related some information about coveting a woman. Do I recall correctly?"

"You do." John nodded. He spent a few heartbeats working up the courage to say what Eliza wished could go unsaid. "And I feel it is only right that you should know the woman I covet is and has always been your wife."

Alexander choked on his drink, coughing violently. "I’m sorry, what?"

"Are you truly surprised, that I would love the same woman you have chosen to love, when we have always been of one mind?"

"I suppose not," Alexander mused, eventually. He stared at Eliza for a while, who squirmed beneath his gaze.

"What say you, Betsey my love, to the impertinence of our guest?" There was no venom in his words, only joviality and, perhaps, curiosity. A careful revelation of desires that had emerged after years together.

"Alexander, do not tease your poor wife, as I imagine this weighs heavy on her immaculate soul."

"It seems you have already confessed to her, Laurens, before making me aware of it."

"Quite so." John responded, a challenge issued in his voice, a dare for Alexander to voice his objection.

"And how were you received?"

"Your wife, being as she has always been the best woman upon this earth, received me with worry that you might loathe her for having room in her heart for the both of us."

Alexander’s face fell, and he hastened to get up and fall onto his knees in front of Eliza, who sobbed miserably now. "Oh, Eliza, my love, how could I? How could I visit my affection upon John and then deny you the same? Do you love him, Eliza? Is that what you have come to realize?"

Eliza nodded, sniffling a little as she leaned into Hamilton’s gentle hand, wiping her tears away with a concerned sound on his tongue as he always did when something upset her.  

"How could you not love a man who is, by all accounts, a mirror of my own heart?"

Eliza flung herself into his arms, kissed him, as more tears streamed down her face. "There, my Betsey, please, don’t cry anymore, for here we are, two men ardently enraptured by you and willing to move the heavens to stop your tears."

"You mistake, my dear husband, the reason for these tears, for they have turned into tears of joy and as such are to be freely shed. Do you not agree?"

John remained seated, unsure if he should dare cross to her side, though he dearly wished to.  

Eliza met his eyes and held his gaze.

He got up, took her free hand and kissed it, feather-light. "It is as your husband says, my dear."

"Then I believe I shall manifest my happiness through my tears until they dry up," Eliza laughed. John smiled, and leaned down carefully to kiss her tears away as he was wont to.

"I believe my dear Hamilton and I have exhausted poor Eliza’s nerves tonight, and she requires sleep."

"I require your arms, you presumptuous fool," Eliza blinked as she smiled tenderly. Alexander laughed in agreement. "I too find myself often longing for their strength, and if it is indeed her wish, my dear Laurens, I must urge you to comply, for there is none more deserving of your affections than our Eliza."

It felt right to Eliza, to be referred to as theirs. 

Eliza slept well that night, wedged between John at her back and Alexander at her front, stroking her until she fell soundly asleep into a peaceful respite.

+

Eliza made her somewhat odd request a few days after the three of them first shared sleeping quarters, still innocent and reluctant as they endeavored to figure out how to work with what they now knew.

"You wish to-" John frowned for a second as he interrupted his knife sharpening, setting the tools down by his side, "You wish to merely watch Alexander and myself?"

"Do not think that is the full extent of my wishes, but I believe that before I can give myself to the both of you together, I must first get a sense of what the two of you do together."

"It is sound logical, Eliza dear, and yet I find a fault with your plan," he grinned.

"And what, pray tell, is not to your liking?"

"That it implies I shall not know you without Alexander’s watchful gaze and, while I should enjoy the attention of both of you tremendously, I cannot help but admit that my heart hungers to enjoy you for myself, even if it is only a single occurrence."

"Oh." Eliza blushed, dropping a garment that John caught elegantly as he stood up to his full height before it reached the ground. He stood quite close.

"If that is not what you wish, Eliza, by all means tell me and I will oblige. I only desire to be your obedient servant in all tings. Perhaps it was my foolish hope to assume-"

"I desire it," Eliza declared, reaching out to hold his hand. A firm squeeze drew a smile to John’s face.

"I do not believe that I have heard more enjoyable words today," he mused. Eliza smiled when he pulled her close and kissed her, in a manner she had come to enjoy as a breathtaking alternative to Alexander’s searing hot flame. Alexander was so impassioned that he could never wait, could never just take his time. John had learned to wait, John delighted in slowly unraveling Eliza whereas her husband swept her up into his storm without hesitation.

"And when, Eliza, do you presume we ought to consummate our mutual desire?"

"I do not expect Alexander shall grace us with his presence for a few more hours, at least."

"By god, woman, your words, though sweet and rife with promise, shall leave me for dead before very long."

"And they claim Alexander to be the poet, how foolish."

"While your husband has an undeniably superior grasp on both prose and poetry, when confronted with a subject such as yourself even the mute man will hasten to sing your praise."

Eliza laughed as John grinned like a thoroughly besotted fool, kissing her happily.

"I think, John," Eliza mused, "That perhaps we ought not to waste any time waxing poetic on my many virtues when the opportunity to find out firsthand lies at your feet."

"Indeed not," John laughed as he kissed her again, hoisting her up in a way that Alexander could never quite manage with her many skirts weighing her down. But John was taller and broad enough -in a way more determined, more eager to prove that he was a worthy lover- that he managed this extraordinary feat.

John brought her to her marriage bed, setting her down and turning her around to deftly unlace the layers that prevented earlier skin on skin contact. Eliza stood and took over for him as he seemed jittery, perhaps a bit daunted by the task, and made swift work of what remained of both their clothes. She was left in front of Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens, fully in the nude and flushing, exposed to his disbelieving gaze. It was so open, so full of unapologetic adoration and admiration, that Eliza felt quite reassured in her decision to love two men.

"My god, Eliza," John’s voice was choked as he beheld her, eyes unable to decide where they should stay and instead flitting about every part of her. "There is truly no one in this world to compare to you."

"Shall I take that to mean you have gazed upon everyone thus? Or can you offer me no proof and henceforth can produce only conjecture?"

John laughed. "I know it in my heart, Eliza, that there is no woman such as you are to be found anywhere else. In fact I do believe I told you as much upon first meeting you."

"Then let us see if there is something similar to be said about you."

And John really was quite a sight to behold, lean and strong and firm against her.

When he slid into her it was with the utmost care, in a way that reminded Eliza of her wedding night. Of course, after two children she had changed, somewhat, and she was struck with the odd regret that John never had the chance to have her when she had still been virginal. Her wedding night had been wonderful, of course, and she would not have changed it if she could. She only wished that she would have been able to give her first time to both of the men she loved.

As it was, this first moment was exquisite in its own right, as their passion built and John slowly but deliberately steered them over the edge into a deep abyss of pleasure.

Eliza clenched around him, and he made to pull away, but Eliza dug her heels into his backside and kept him firmly embedded in her flesh. "Eliza, my love, if you do not let me slip from you I will spill inside of you, an awkward circumstance, to say the least-"

"I want your seed within me, John," she moaned, urging him to thrust harder, "For I desire all that of you which I desire of my husband."

And John’s hips stuttered, desperately, as he emptied himself into Eliza with a powerful noise, as close to a scream as she had ever heard in such context.

"Jesus Christ, Eliza," John laughed as he collapsed by her side.

+

"Alexander," John had greeted his lover at the door when he came home from work, looking worse for wear. He had drawn him into his arm, had noted with delight how the tension flowed from him and had kissed him, slowly and sensually, waiting for Hamilton's undeniable passion to ignite. It never took long. 

"Where have you left our dearest Betsey?" Alexander asked, as he bent down to remove his boots. 

"Putting the children to bed, I imagine. She ordered me to keep you occupied while she undresses."

"Is that so?" Alexander had murmured, intrigue betrayed clearly in his eyes. John had wet his lips, teasingly, equally eager at the thought of enjoying the evening as a trio. "Perhaps we had best get ourselves ready for that dear girl then."

"I would judge myself quite eagerly ready, dearest Hamilton," John quipped, sighing happily when Alexander's hand reached into his breeches to feel for himself. 

"Quite so John, you stand admirably at attention and I will shortly follow if you but continue to kiss me," Alexander groaned. 

"Oh, Alex you are wonderful," John had whispered into his ear as he pulled Alex close to him. 

"Shall I be disconcerted that the prospect of bedding my wife for the first time makes you more eager to rise than bedding me, or is it the sheer novelty of the experience?"

"Truth be told, friend, I already enjoyed your wife, not two days ago, and while you are indeed exquisite, dearest Eliza is sweet in a way you can never hope to be."

"Too true," Alexander had responded and continued the conversation through a kiss, ever-growing in passion until both men were utterly consumed. 

"Let us seek out Eliza now, before she feels left out," John suggested. And so they had. 

+

They had almost twenty years together, all in all. Through Maria Reynolds John aided Eliza and made the overtures to earning Alexander forgiveness he wasn’t sure their lover deserved. Through Philip’s death, John remained by both their sides, even as Eliza struggled to contain the hurricane that her husband was.

But Alexander was never made to be contained, Eliza realized as she sat by his deathbed, watching him bleed out from a wound in his chest. Their children were there, officially Alexander’s, but Eliza could always tell which ones were John’s.

Angelica, the oldest now, was Alexander’s on account of what had then been an exclusive relationship.

Alexander Jr., ironically, was John’s, begotten the very night Eliza and John consummated their tryst. James Alexander was also John’s, for his seed was apparently viciously competitive. There was no way of determining by date which man could claim paternity, but the full lips and soft brown eyes begotten through Eliza and an utter lack of freckles along his pale face made it evident. John Church was Alexander’s child, as was William Stephen, their little Billy.

Holly was John’s daughter, the only daughter she had gotten from him, with bright blue eyes but dark hair like her mother. And little Philip, just three years old, was also John’s, she was sure of it. His honey blonde hair was a dead giveaway, though when he was born it was quite red on account of all the blood. There had been rumors, over the years, regarding Eliza’s children.

Alexander had often regaled them with tales of ‘concerned colleagues’ approaching him and making snide remarks about how ‘Young Alexander certainly takes after Mr. Laurens, doesn’t he?’

And now, Alexander was dead. Eliza could not stop his destruction and neither could John. John, the man who had dragged Alex along for his first duel, who had in his youth been a most determined hot-head, had been turned into a voice of reason for Alexander in later years. If only he could have been made to listen.  

They remained with one another, marrying a year after Alexander’s death to everyone’s smug comments, as they felt they had been proven right in their suspicions. ‘Ha, I knew it’, Eliza would hear as they walked the streets together, or ‘cuckolded by his closest friend, what man deserves that?’. But they never knew the truth of the matter, did not know that two people who loved each other and a third had lost a part of their heart they could never hope to recover.

It was an effort for both of them, for a long time they could not be as happy with just each other, until after some years the deep wounds of losing Alexander finally closed up, scarred but no longer fresh and bleeding.

John died peacefully, just past his eightieth birthday, and Eliza spent her final twenty years a widow, ensuring both of their legacies.

 

**Author's Note:**

> please give me feedback, deal? Even if you hated it.


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